It's a Wonderful Life, House
by Revengent
Summary: On a Christmas Eve night, House decides to end it all, but he gets stopped by a "Second Class Angel" and an event that would change his life. Based off of the classic Holiday movie, It's a Wonderful Life.
1. The End

**This is based off thr movie _It's a Wonderful Life_. If you know the story, you kind of know how it goes, if not, well that's fine too. This fic is going to be a little different than the original though, but there are going to be a lot of similar things. So, sit back and read a nice Christmas House fic :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House (owned by David Shore, NBC, Fox, blah blah blah), nor _It's a Wonderful Life, _which is by Frank Capra.**

* * *

It's a Wonderful Life, House

House stood on the roof of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, overlooking the vast city's appearance at night. It was really late, House guessed that it must be close to midnight, and the lights of the city were twinkling and shining brightly in the darkness of the night.

It was December twenty-fourth, Christmas Eve. House was up on the roof alone, like he usually was when he went on the roof. He hadn't been up here in a long time. He normally did when he had thoughts that he had to sort through, of if he wanted to get away from everything and everyone else.

Tonight, House was thinking of something different. He didn't have this thought when he pushed the button of the elevator to ride to the roof, but as he stood there shivering in the bitter winter wind and thinking, it had snuck up on him unexpectedly.

House peered over the edge of the building. The hospital was what, six stories tall? It would surely be a long drop, but it would be guaranteed, however quite gruesome. But didn't it matter; he wouldn't be here after he was dead, so why should he care about how he died? It would be someone else's problem, whether they would witness him falling from the hospital roof or if they found him afterward.

House took a step back and looked up at the stars that dotted the sky. Maybe he should just go home and down a bottle of Vicodin and a glass of whisky. House was reminded of the Christmas Eve two years ago when Wilson had found him lying in his own vomit. Not nearly as dramatic as jumping of the hospital roof.

House wondered was driving him to commit suicide. With all the close encounters to death that he has had – the infarction, being shot, sticking a knife in an electrical socket, the bus crash – you would think that he would value life more. But no, not really. He was just another expendable person in the universe and nothing but a speck of a speck on the great cosmic scale. His life didn't have a value, and he was going to die anyway, so why not now, on this very night? He had experienced enough misery in his life and it wasn't getting any better, so why not spare himself some hardship? And he had certainly caused other people problems too. Tonight was proof. He was all alone; Cuddy was with her new foster baby, his fellows were out doing whatever with family and friends and Wilson had traveled and was spending the holidays with his parents. House was alone, and nobody really noticed. If he was worth more, and if he didn't drive people away by being a miserable bastard, he might be having different thoughts tonight.

He wondered if people would even think that he had jumped off the roof on purpose. He wondered if people would shake their head in pity or laugh, saying that the diagnostician had stumbled onto the roof drunk and accidently fallen off in his drunken stupor.

House shrugged. It didn't matter what others thought. He was doing this for himself. If things were going to end, House wanted to end them himself and not wait for another suffering to end his life for him.

Taking a deep inhale of the freezing air and letting his cane clatter to the floor, House took a step and firmly stood on the extreme edge of the roof. This was it; he was teetering on the brink of his death. All he had to do was let go.

House closed his eyes, ready for the plunge.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

House's eyes snapped open and he looked over his shoulder. There was a man standing a few feet away with an arm outstretched, begging House to stop.

"Go away, and act surprised when there's news of a doctor that went _splat_ on the pavement," House quipped. House turned back to the open city, ready once more to jump.

"No! Just stop! Wait a second!"

With his eyes closed, House muttered, "Do you think that I am going to listen to your suicide prevention mumbo-jumbo?"

"I wish you would," the man retorted.

"You are you anyway?"

"I'll tell you…if you step off that ledge."

"Ah, nice. Bargaining. But it's not going to work. Go talk to some suicidal teenager, they're easier to stop."

"I would, but you see…I was sent here to stop you."

House looked over his shoulder a second time. "What? I didn't tell anybody I was going to do this. I didn't even know until I came up here."

The man pointed upward. "Somebody knew. He's the one that sent me here."

"Oh my God, you've-,"

"That's the one."

House opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but then he closed it for lack of something to say. Instead he settled for, "You're insane."

"No…I'm not the one about to jump off of a building."

House turned around fully and crossed his arms. "So what if I don't believe in…" House nodded his head upward. "Do you go away then?"

"No. And you have to admit, you have thought about there being someone, though at times you'd rather think there isn't," the man said, stepping closer to House. "Come away from the edge Greg."

House looked to the man in shock. "How…do you know my name?"

"I told you, He sent me." The man was now standing in the light, so House could get a better look at the man that was trying to coax House away from suicide. It was weathered, but he had a friendly bright face and he was dressed on black slacks and a large tan winter coat. House guessed that he must be nearing his late sixties. The man had kind brown eyes, and messy grey hair that covered his head. House was taller than the man, he towered a good five inches over the man, and the man had broad shoulders that matched the rest of his full frame. House could never remember seeing this man in his life, yet he was calling House by his first name.

"Who…are you again?" House asked.

The man smiled. "Oh, I almost forgot!" The man reached forward and grabbed House's hand and shook it, also pulling House away from the ledge of the roof. "My name's Thomas Albright."

House started at Thomas. "And you're here because…?"

"Haven't I told you a couple of times already? He sent me because you were fixin' to end your life. You see…I'm your guardian angel."

House stared blankly at Thomas. "An angel? Really?"

Thomas nodded. "Second Class actually. I don't have my wings yet. If I help you, I get moved up to First Class, and that's when I get my wings."

House slapped himself in the face. He had to be dreaming. "You're here as a Second Class angel to help me from killing myself. This sounds a lot like _It's a Wonderful Life_."

Thomas shrugged. "I guess it is very similar. Only this time, it's you that wants to die. Not George Bailey."

House shook his head. This was so unreal.

"I'm…going to go. I think I've had too many Vicodin tonight. Bye Thomas." House patted Thomas on the shoulder and walked back to the ledge.

"You really should kick that narcotic habit!" Thomas yelled at House.

"Bye!"

Thomas looked up at the sky. "I'm sorry. He doesn't really want to listen. You know he's a tough one to handle."

House snickered and wondered who had paid this crazy guy to come up here. Wilson, Cuddy? Well, whoever it was will get a surprise when they find out that he is dead. But…how would they have known that he was going to kill himself...?

A loud clap of thunder roared through the night. House slowly turned around to see Thomas cowering with his hands above his head.

"But he's so stubborn! You said so yourself!"

Another roll of thunder occurred, and Thomas squeaked.

"Okay, okay! I'll try my best. But I'm not promising anything," Thomas said.

A small sound of thunder happened again, which this time Thomas only swatted his hand in the air at.

"Stop fussing. I know what to do." Thomas turned towards House, who was frozen on the spot.

"Do you believe me now?" Thomas asked.

House tilted his head. "Not really. I still think you're kind of a nutcase. But…" House weighed the consequences. He figured that he could see what this "Angel" had to say. Worst case scenario, he was just an escapee from the Psych Ward. "What do you want?"

Thomas grinned, and pulled House away from the ledge once more. House stumbled over his feet, grimacing in pain from his thigh.

"Whoops, sorry!" Thomas said. "My apologies."

"Whatever. So, what are you going to do? Take a stroll with me through my past?" House asked.

Thomas nodded. "We're going to do just that. Now hold on."

House rolled his eyes, wondering what this guy was going to do. But he was surprised when something more than nothing happened.


	2. The Past

**Here's chapter two. It's a little different than I thought...but I think it works. :) So, review and...what not. Have a good day!**

* * *

As colors, images and sounds swirled and flashed around House, he tried to catch a glimpse of what was passing. However, he was unable to get a clue as to where Thomas the guardian angel was taking him. After a few seconds it all stopped, and House looked around his surroundings.

Thomas and House were still alone, but no longer on the hospital's rooftop.

Thomas raised his eyebrow at House. "Impressed?"

House looked sideways at the angel. "Maybe."

"Why can't you ever give anybody a definitive answer?"

"Doesn't your boss know the answer to that?" House snapped.

"Yes. But do you?" Thomas asked, catching House off guard. When House didn't have an immediate answer, Thomas asked, "So you believe me now? Did transporting you convince you that I am in fact an angel?"

"_Second Class_ Angel, buddy." House sighed and looked up into the night sky. "Yeah. Either that, or I'm having one hell of a dream."

Thomas nodded. "Good." He swept an arm in the air, gesturing to the surroundings. "Do you know where we are?"

House glanced around the area that he and Thomas had landed. "My old home, from when I was like six."

Thomas nodded. "So the narcotics haven't made you totally lose your memory."

After House had identified where they were, the surrounds became more clear and distinct. They were standing on the front porch of an old, two story house that he had lived in for the period of time when House and his family had lived in Virginia. It was a quaint place; simple white paint on the outside with a well kept and modest lawn. A perfect example of the American life.

"Let's go in," Thomas said, striding to the front door and entering the house by going through the door in a ghost-like way without opening the door. House stared at the departed Thomas in amazement. Shrugging, House limped after him, shifting through the door just like Thomas had done.

The scene in front of Thomas and House was one that House was familiar with. House turned to Thomas, who had his arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"They can't see or hear us, right?" House asked.

Thomas shook his head.

House looked back to the past before him. It was a typical night at the House's home. Blythe House was in the kitchen cleaning up the day's worth of dishes. John House, now alive, was sitting in his armchair with his feet propped up, smoking a cigar and reading the newspaper. The younger version of Gregory House, probably five or six, was lying on his stomach on the floor, knees bent and legs sticking up in the air shaking to some unheard rhythm and scribbling something in a notebook.

House looked over to Thomas. "Is this really that important?"

Thomas was looking at a lamp on the table next to him and said without looking to House, "You'll see."

House rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to his younger self. He remembered that awful haircut that his dad had forced on him. House's mother had let it get "too long" and John had taken matters into his own hands and had given Greg a short military cut like himself. Greg had hated it.

Finally, it seemed as though the past House's were doing something.

"Boy," John House said. "Stop that."

Younger Greg looked up at his father. "Stop what?"

"Movin' your leg! It's shaking the whole floor!"

"Sorry dad." Greg let his legs fall to the floor and he continued writing in his notebook.

House turned to Thomas. "So what? My dad was picky. What relevance does this have-?"

Thomas held up a hand to silence House, and then pointed to Blythe in the kitchen. House looked too.

Greg's mother had her hands against the kitchen counter with her head down and her shoulders shaking from her sobs. She looked up, seeing if anyone was witnessing her breakdown, unbeknownst to her that her older son and a strange angel were watching. She bit her knuckles to keep from making a sound, and House swallowed, feeling his mother's pain.

"What's wrong with her?" House asked Thomas.

Thomas shrugged.

"I know you know," House stated.

"Maybe. But it's more fun this way."

"You know I don't like you that much, right?" House turned back to look at his mom, who was now wiping her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, and then walking into the living room. As she passed House, he could get a whiff of the perfume that she used to wear, and it brought House even further back into nostalgia.

Blythe walked over to her young son and knelt down next to him. "Time to go to bed honey."

"Ten more minutes mom! Please?" Greg whined.

"You heard your mom! Get out of here!" John yelled, pointing to the stairs with his cigar between his fingers.

Greg sighed dramatically, and shuffled up the stairs to his room.

"I'll be in there in a minute Gregory," Blythe called after her son. Then turning to her husband, she rang her hands together.

"John?"

"What?" John House spat.

"Are you okay? You've been kind of…tense lately," Blythe said.

"Tense? Really?" John threw his newspaper onto the floor and glared at his wife. "I've got to deal with you, and the kid-,"

"John, don't start about that-,"

"…And the stress of work, and you think I'm a _little_ tense?" He stood up and towered over his wife. "Do you?"

"I…John, stop it."

"Don't tell me what to stop." John grabbed Blythe forcefully by the arm and shook her.

House looked frantically over to Thomas, who was viewing the fight with a grim face. House remembered this night perfectly now. Any minute, he would…

Both John and Blythe turned around fast to see Greg sitting on the top stair against the wall, crying and shaking like him mom had been earlier in the kitchen. Blythe quickly freed herself from her husband's grasp and ran up the stairs to her son and enclosed him in a hug.

"Why are you and daddy fighting?" Greg asked his mom through his sobs.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it, he didn't hurt me." Looking over her son's shoulder, Blythe shot her husband a harsh look. John stood in the middle of the living room where he had been, staring up at his wife and son.

"He won't do it again?" Greg asked.

For a second, Blythe paused, but then said, "No. He won't." She said this while her eyes were unmoving from John's.

The rest happened as House remembered it; his mom took him up to his room and read his stories until he fell asleep. But House knew that from before. This time, he was watching his father who stared at the place on the stairs where Greg and Blythe had been long after they were gone. This time, House got to hear his father mutter two words that seemed so unlike him.

"_I won't."_

After that, the scene faded and the surroundings become unrecognizable.

"So, did that surprise you?" Thomas asked.

House bit his bottom lip. "That was the beginning of me learning to hate my dad."

"But," Thomas said, holding a finger up at House. "You did something good there. Because of you, your father never laid a harmful hand on your mother again."

"So what? I'm no big hero. He wouldn't have hurt her anyway if they hadn't caught me watching their fight."

Thomas tilted his head. "Are you so sure about that? John looked pretty dangerous to me."

House shrugged, and Thomas took a step closer to him.

"That night, by saying those words, 'I won't', he promised to never hurt your mom again. And he didn't," Thomas explained.

"Physically," House muttered.

"There's just no pleasing you, is there?" Thomas sighed and snapped his fingers.

A bright scene appeared around them. It was a bright summer's day and they were standing in a driveway with several people standing around a jam packed car. House recognized this as the day he left for college.

This time, it was a nineteen year old Greg House that was the focus of the past. His hair was long, thick and curly and the present House ran a hand through his hair, forgetting is younger hair style. Nineteen year old House was much different than how he was now. The two both shared the same bright blue eyes, but House's younger self seemed much taller because his athletic frame was not used to slouching over because of his chronic use of a cane and he was free of the lines and wrinkles that now lined House's face.

"Look at you, you're a young wipper-snapper," Thomas remarked. House rolled his eyes and looked back to the scene with him and his family preparing for Greg's departure to college.

"I'm so happy for you Gregory." Blythe kissed her son on his cheek. Nineteen year old Greg scoffed.

"Mom. I'm still going to be alive. I'm not leaving forever."

"Oh, but I know how it is. You'll get up there and you'll never want to leave." Blythe looked sadly up at her son and ran her hands down his arms. Then he pulled him into a hug and whispered into his ear, "I'm so proud of you."

House looked away from the scene with his mom and younger self and to Thomas. "I've learned my lesson. I'm a great person, blah, blah, blah."

Thomas ignored House's comment and continued to look intently at the scene in front of them.

Blythe took one last look at her son, and then stepped away. John House, who had also been watching Blythe's and Greg's encounter, took a step towards Greg and extended his hand. Greg took his father's hand in his, and shook it, the closest affection he had gotten from his father in a long time.

"Don't try to screw up too badly, okay?" John asked. Greg glared at his father and let his hand drop to his side.

"I've got to go," Greg said, opening his car door and ducking inside. As nineteen year old Greg drove away, House watched his mother and father. Blythe smiled and waved, but when she thought that her son could no longer see her, she burst into tears and turned to her husband. John retained his stony face expression, but let Blythe sob on his shoulder and he rubbed small circles on her back.

"Your dad did care about you."

House looked over at Thomas. "No, he didn't," House argued.

"He may not have seemed like it, but he did."

"Yeah, right." House scoffed. "My dad didn't love me."

Thomas shrugged. "Whatever. You do know everything."

"Is that sarcasm?"

With a glint in his eye, Thomas snapped his fingers again, and House was brought to a fatherless memory this time. It was a few years after the scene previously, Greg had not aged much. But what shocked House most about this particular memory was the other person in it.

Lying in the bed next to the younger version of him tangled in the sheets was a young Lisa Cuddy.

"Hey! You can't be here," House said to Thomas, trying to push him away. Thomas only shrugged away from him.

"This is an important moment," Thomas said. "Don't you agree?"

House shook his head. "I don't want to…" He looked over to where Cuddy was snuggled next to his younger self.

"What happened?" Thomas asked.

"I was her tutor," House said slowly. "One night, she was over late and…" House looked at Thomas intently. "Then…you know." House raised his eyebrows. "I banged my future boss."

"Yes, in derogatory words, more or less." Thomas cleared his throat. "What made you decide to, uh…bang her?"

House watched Lisa's steady rise and fall of her chest, and her small smile that she wore on her face while she slept peacefully. "I don't know…she was smart, pretty…"

"You know what your problem is Greg?" Thomas asked.

"I have a feeling that you're going to tell me anyway," House muttered.

"It's that you can never express your feelings."

"I haven't heard that one before," House said sarcastically.

"Then why don't you do anything about it if you already know? You have done it with everybody. Your friends, your parents, people that matter to you. You were faced with it not too long ago when Cuddy asked you about why you negate everything, but what did you do?"

"I…kissed her."

Thomas nodded. "You may have not been able to express your emotions with words, but you did with actions. But…you didn't tell her how you feel."

"I don't feel anything."

"Oh, really?" Thomas asked. He motioned to the two young adults that were lying next to each other. Greg now had wrapped an arm around Lisa, and brought her closer to him and then gently kissed her on the cheek. Lisa, who now was awake too, met his lips to receive a passionate kiss, with Greg's hand sliding down her back.

Thomas nudged House was gaping at himself with Cuddy. "Looks like you feel something to me."

"That was a long time ago-,"

"You mean to tell me that you didn't feel anything that night when you kissed Lisa Cuddy at her home?"

House paused.

"Ah, I see." Thomas placed a hand on House's shoulder. "You may be able to lie to others, and you may be able to convince yourself that things are not true, but can do neither to me."

House shrugged Thomas's hand off.

"You know you broke her heart? After this night," Thomas said, nodding towards to the two lovers, "You will begin to avoid Lisa, and she will wonder what happened to the Greg that she spent this night with. She will cry, because she won't understand. But, she will get over you, and continue with her life, remembering this night as the one night that she was with the Gregory House without inhibitions."

"People have inhibitions for a reason," House muttered.

"And," Thomas continuing, "When she meets you years later, only this time you are looking for employment, emotions are rekindled but neither of you act on them. Now, she wonders if you're even worth it, or if that Greg House that she knew in college is even still there."

"So…she wants to be with me?" House whispered.

"I can't tell you. You have to find out for yourself."

"What? Come on Thomas buddy!"

Thomas crossed his arms and shook his head. "Nope. You have to face your people problem."

"But…she has a baby now, she won't want me…"

"What makes you think that? Maybe she needs you."

"I…I don't know…"

"Greg. You can do whatever you want, but this is something that you can take control of, and whatever happens will happen." Thomas leaned in closer to House and whispered in his ear, "But it can't get much worse than it is, can it?"

House stared blankly at Thomas. "What…?"

"You have nothing to lose."

Leaving House to think about that, Thomas snapped his fingers, circling him and House once more in a blur of color, leaving the one night that Greg gave everything to Lisa. Himself, without holding back.


	3. The Wish

**Another update :) So this is kind of where it gets more like the original story. At the end of the chapter that is.**

**And a thanks to RemyTheReaper, who looked over the beginning of this fic to make sure House didn't sound too emo! LOL**

**Thanks to everyone that has been reviewing and adding this to alert and what not. :) It makes me feel special.**

**

* * *

**

This time after the world around House and Thomas stood still, House recognized where they were. House had only spent the past however many years working at the Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, and he would recognize it any day.

"Why am I here now?" House asked Thomas with a sideways glance. Thomas merely shrugged.

"This is your past, your life, your story. You tell me why we're here Greg," Thomas said cryptically.

House sighed. They were standing in the middle of a hallway, and House guessed that they must be eight to ten years in the past judging from the appearance of the décor of the hospital. Medical personal and other people scurried around the hallway like they still did today; going to whatever business they needed to tend to without taking a seconds glance at what they were missing when they passed by. They walked past House and Thomas without acknowledging them like the other people in the memories that Thomas had dragged House through. House looked around, looking for a clue that would tell him why he was here and why Thomas thought that this was an important part of his life.

"Try looking in there," Thomas said, pointing to a private room in the corner of the hall.

House limped towards the room where the curtains were drawn, nervous at what he would find. He looked over his shoulder to see Thomas leaning against the nurse's counter, motioning for House to go on without him. House shrugged, but then decided if Thomas was going to finally give him and his past some privacy, his wasn't going to deprive himself of that matter.

Pressing his hand against the cool glass of the sliding door to the room that Thomas had directed him to, House wondered what was on the other side. Taking a deep breath, House went through the glass door.

On the other side, House found himself sitting up in a hospital bed, about ten years younger. Knowing immediately what point of life this was, House wanted to turn back, but he found himself fixated to the scene. It was right after he had the surgery to fix the damage from the infarction, the thing that crippled him for life.

Looking at his younger self, House was amazed at how much he had aged in…ten years? He didn't even know how long it had been. His hair was thicker and he had fewer lines on his face and he looked overall healthier even though he was sick in a hospital. But at the moment, his younger self was consumed with anger and was taking it out on everybody else in the room. Doctor Lisa Cuddy was standing against the door, and Stacy was sitting in the chair next to Greg's bed. Both women looked taken aback at his outburst, and House was also.

"I told you I didn't want you to do anything!" Greg yelled at Stacy. "I trusted you!"

Stacy bit her bottom lip. "I know Greg, but I had to. You were dying-,"

"It's not your choice for me to live or die!"

"House," Lisa said curtly (House noticed how know he had changed from Greg to House in one memory), "It was Stacy's decision. She's your proxy."

"She's not anymore. I don't want you to-,"

"Greg!"

"Don't Greg me!"

"Shut the hell up!" Stacy shouted, closing her eyes in frustration. She took a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry. I just love you more than your leg."

"If you loved me, then you would have not gone against my wishes," Greg muttered.

Stacy reached over and grabbed Greg's hand. "I know you may hate me, but I did it for you, because I love you."

"I'll never forgive you," Greg spat, jerking his hand out of hers.

Stacy's lips quivered as she willed herself not to cry, but she managed to say, "That's okay."

Greg scoffed. "Fuck you." He then looked up at Lisa who was still watching the lover's quarrel. "And fuck you for letting her."

Lisa's eyes widened in shock, but then narrowed as she glared at the man on the hospital bed and then disappeared out the door with her lab coat trailing behind her. Stacy stood up out of her chair and stared out the window that overlooked the city, while Greg rubbed his damaged thigh.

House rubbed his thigh, much like his younger self was doing.

"So?"

House wiped around to see Thomas standing behind him.

"So what?" House snapped.

"What did you think of yourself right then?"

"I…" House looked over to Stacy who was wiping her eyes, facing the window so Greg wouldn't see her cry. Even though he was no longer as emotionally attached to her, House still felt a pang of guilt seeing her cry over something he did, so many years ago. However, he still felt the anger flare inside of him when he thought about what she had done. She approved the surgery that had made him in chronic pain for the rest of his life.

"Do you think that you would still be here if she didn't let them go ahead and do the surgery on your leg?" Thomas asked.

"Most likely…not."

"So why are you complaining about living?"

"Because, it was my choice for me not to have it, and she knew I didn't want to, but she did it anyway." House looked over at his younger self, who was now lying on his back, with his face turned away from Stacy. "And Cuddy knew I didn't want it too."

"Greg, honestly? Do you know why they wanted you to have the surgery?"

"To save my life, blah, blah, blah. I know that. But what about what I want?" House asked.

"Sometimes, what you want isn't the best thing. And what about what others want? Stacy and Lisa and everyone else wanted you to live."

"But-,"

"And sometimes, you can't always get what you want," Thomas said, grinning at House. House rolled his eyes, annoyed at the angel's insistence.

"Come on, we're done here," Thomas said.

The next scene that House found himself repeating was one from not too long ago. Chase, Cameron and Foreman were gathered around the glass table in the conference room, and he was at the white board jotting down things they said. Foreman said something about leaving, but then stopped when a man walked uncertainly through the door.

"Which one of you is Dr. House?" the man asked.

"No," House said looking to Thomas. Thomas shook his head, leaving House to go through the experience where he got shot again.

Before he knew it, the man had pulled out his gun and fired one shot at House's past self. Past House fell to the ground, knocking over the white board, Cameron covered her mouth in shock, and Chase and Foreman made a move towards House lying on the floor. Then the man fired another shot, making the past House submerge into a hallucination. This time, House got to witness what had happened in the moments that he had lost.

"What the hell?" Foreman yelled. He took a step closer to the man, but the man then aimed the gun in Foreman's direction.

"Take a step closer, and I'll shoot," the man warned.

Chase stepped back with his hands up and Cameron whimpered and looked away from the man threatening them to the bleeding form of House on the floor. Many people in the hallway were now pointing into the office and gazing in fear. Losing his nerve, the man panicked and ran out of the room. Chase and Cameron rushed to unconscious House on the floor, while Foreman ran into the hallway, shouting orders to nurses that were standing outside the door.

"Oh my God," Chase said as he soaked blood up from House's neck with a towel. "Oh my God."

Cameron hurriedly unbuttoned House's shirt to get to his stomach wound. She broke into a sob and looked up at Chase, who met her gaze for a moment before he got back to work.

Foreman ran back into the room and knelt down next to Cameron. "Come on son of a bitch, don't die on us," he said, pulling on a pair of gloves and joined Chase and Cameron in the task of saving their mentor.

"You see that?" Thomas asked.

House looked away from his former fellows leaning over his past self, trying to stop his bleeding. "What? I didn't expect them to let me lay there and bleed to death all over the floor. They did what they are supposed to do."

"Right. But they did more. You may not think so, but they care for you very much. They would have been heartbroken if you died."

"Sure. They might have even cried."

"They might have. What about that time on the bus? Robert, Eric, Allison, and everyone else there held their breath in anticipation because they all though that you were done for."

House had no answer.

"Even if you'd like to not think so Greg, people do care about you," Thomas whispered.

House thought back to the time where he had faked brain cancer and when the three of them, Chase, Cameron and Foreman, all turned up at his front door overjoyed that they had found out that he wasn't going to die after all. Then House's happy thought came crashing down when he remembered the look of disappointment they shared when they found that he had been lying.

"You did hurt them though, by doing that," Thomas said, obviously able to know what House was thinking of.

"Yeah."

Thomas snapped his fingers again, this time taking them to an even more recent time in his life. House saw himself in a hospital bed again, only this time it was after he had come out of the coma after the deep brain stimulation. Wilson stood at House's door, but then walked away, only leaving House with the tired, empty gaze that his face had had when looking at House. House remembered of what Wilson had said, how House was not a good friend, and was never doing anything for anyone else but himself, and that he wanted others to join in on his misery…

Snap. Now House was at his father's funeral, watching himself insult his father during the eulogy, and the look of shame and disappointment on his mother's face, and then him walking away as his mother tried to talk to him, but he just ignored her…

Snap. He was now at Cuddy's house, and his past self was looking into Cuddy's eyes after he had kissed her. All he muttered was "Goodnight," and he walked away, leaving Lisa Cuddy speechless and confused…

Snap. House was now watching himself look at Lisa Cuddy holding her new foster baby. She looked complete and happy, and House remembered how he had felt that now she would never need anyone else…

"Greg."

House looked up. Thomas was standing in front of him, wind blowing his coat wildly. They were now back on the hospital rooftop.

"I…" House looked up at the night sky. "I've done so many things wrong in my life…"

"No! You've saved your mother, and you save people every day. You've inspired all the fellows that you have taught-," Thomas explained, but House cut him off.

"That's not enough. Wilson was right, they all were right. I've drowned myself in misery, and I've made others have it too, because of me. My mom, Stacy, Wilson, Cuddy…" House sighed. "My life has been horrible. I wish I had never been born."

"Really?" Thomas asked.

House nodded. "If I wasn't ever alive, everything would be better. My dad would not have had to call a kid "son" that was not his, my mom would have been happy not to have a miserable son, people would have been saved of heartbreak…" House was overwhelmed with feelings of grief, and the utter disappointment that his life has been. The only thing he had made for himself was his career. He had no relationships, not many friends, no kids…nobody would miss him if he wasn't alive. House wished that Thomas had not stopped him from jumping off the roof.

"Well, if you feel that way," Thomas said simply.

"What?"

"You said you wished you never were born. You really want that?" Thomas asked.

House nodded.

"Fine." Thomas looked up for a second, and then looked back at House. "Done."

House looked to Thomas in shock. "What?"

"You were never born. You got your wish."

House took a step forward, and looked down at his leg. "My leg, it doesn't hurt!"

"Of course it doesn't. You were never alive, so no infarction, no pain."

House grinned. "I like this already. And trust me...I'm not going to change my mind."

Thomas nodded. "If you say so."

House smiled, and ran down the stairs into the hospital to see how a world without Gregory House fared.

* * *

***dramatic music* What will happen next?! Oh no! So review, please. If you want. All you got to do is push the greenish button and type a few words :) Thanks!**


	4. The Regret

**Okay, here's an update! *cheers* This chapter was really hard to write for some reason. Anyways, enjoy and review, even you lurkers! I'd love to hear from you :)**

* * *

House ran down the stairs, taking two at a time, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He felt free; he was free from his past and from his pain.

It felt so good to be able to run. It felt so good to run from his past.

Coming to the fourth floor landing, House flung open the door letting it slam against the wall. Things looked exactly as they had before he had gone on to the roof.

"Hi, can I help you?"

House turned around. It was Kutner. House wondered why Kutner looked like he had never seen him before, but then he remembered he was never born, so he had never met the disgruntled Gregory House. He was a brand new person.

"Uh, yeah. Where's the diagnostic department?" House asked.

Kutner looked at House strangely. "We…don't have a diagnostic department."

"Oh." Cuddy had made the diagnostic department just for House. Since he was never employed at the hospital, there would be no diagnostic department…

"Who's the Dean of the hospital?" House asked.

"….Doctor Lisa Cuddy," Kutner said softly, fidgeting. "But…"

House smiled. At least some things were the same.

"Thanks," House said to his past fellow. He walked down the hallway with a spring in his step, looking into each of the rooms, looking for familiar faces. Most of the same doctors were still there. His absence from the world hadn't caused that much change in the world. He wasn't needed after all.

Too busy looking at the rooms as he passed, House ran right into someone who was walking quickly down the hallway.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I…"

House looked down at the women who was stuttering apologies and knelling down, gathering the files she had dropped.

"Cameron?" House asked.

"Yes?" Cameron smiled, always wanting to help someone in need. House snickered. She hasn't changed at all.

"It's me, House."

"Um…" Cameron tilted her head and stared at House. "I'm sorry, I don't know you."

House sighed when he remembered that she would not know him.

"Is there a problem?"

House looked over, recognizing the thick Australian accent immediately.

"Chase!" House exclaimed.

"Dr. Chase."

"Whatever," House muttered. "How's your dad?"

"Dead," Chase said with a stony expression. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gregory House, I used to work here."

Chase nodded. "That's wonderful. Now if you don't mind Dr. Cameron and I must be going."

House's two former fellows walked away. Chase trotted next to Cameron's side, trying to talk to her, but Cameron merely brushed Chase off and turned her head away.

Even now in an alternate universe, Chase is still pining after Cameron and Cameron still didn't let him into her life. It was only a matter time before Chase finally won her over…or not. Cameron turned around and yelled something at Chase that House could not hear, and then stormed away in the opposite direction, leaving Chase standing clueless in the hall.

Shaking his head, House continued walking down the hallway, examining life without him. He felt like a ghost. Nobody knew he was there, (well, nobody knew he was there. To others, he was now just another random person), and he had full knowledge of how things were before. It was kind of enthralling.

House's thoughts were interrupted when a familiar short figure crossed in front of his line of vision. With curiosity, House followed Taub into the room where he was headed, but stopped short when he also recognized the person laying the hospital bed.

Thirteen was looking very ill, more than House had ever seen her.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Taub barked with his arms crossed. "This is a patient's room and you can't come in here-,"

"I'm a doctor," House said. He closed the distance between Thirteen, who was now sitting up, and himself, leaving Taub irritated.

"Remy Hadley?" House asked.

Thirteen nodded. "Why do you care?"

House looked over at Taub. "Why is she here?"

"Alcohol poisoning," Thirteen said without missing a beat. Taub sighed.

"Ms. Hadley, I need to talk to you alone. When I ran some blood tests, I-," Taub began.

"NO!" Thirteen screamed, covering her ears. "I don't want to know!"

Both House and Taub jumped back in surprise to Thirteen's outburst. House quickly recovered.

"One day, you'll have to know whether or not you are at risk for Huntington's. Why not know tonight?" House asked.

Taub and Thirteen both stared at House in shock. Thirteen tried to remember if she knew House from anywhere.

"H-how do you know?" Taub stuttered.

"I told you, I'm a doctor." House snatched Thirteen's file from Taub, and at the same time House noticed Taub's left hand.

"You're not married," House stated. Taub's usual gold wedding band was now gone.

Taub instinctively rubbed where his ring would have been. "No…I'm not."

"But you were."

Taub scoffed, and then shook his head. "How…why are you asking me this? I don't know you."

"Did she catch you philandering around again?"

"Who are you?!"

"Or did you confess your affair to your wife?"

"Shut up!" Taub yelled. He then took a deep breath, and then let it out, glaring at House. "I have no idea who you are, or how you know so much about me…or this patient," he said nodding to Thirteen, "But I'm asking you to leave. Now."

"Fine." House handed Thirteen's file back to Taub and walked to the door, and looked over his shoulder. "But…"

"If you must know, yes, she caught me, and then divorced me. Happy?" Taub asked.

"No." House left the room without another word.

Okay, so Thirteen's and Taub's lives are different, but he himself wouldn't cause that much of a change in their lives, would he? House doubted it.

But a sickening feeling in his stomach made him think otherwise.

House came to the place where his office would have been, if he was alive. Now, it was just another lab. House felt a twinge of remorse when he thought of all the time he spent in his office…

Next to the lab however, was still the office of "James Wilson, M.D." Gleeful that Wilson had still ended up as head oncologist; House quickly walked towards the door, and then began running. Stopping at the door and hoping that Wilson was working late, House turned the doorknob. It was unlocked, and House soothed his want to know and opened the door, revealing his friend sitting at the desk like he always did. But Wilson wasn't like the Wilson that House remembered.

James Wilson now looked like he had lived many stressful years; his look of boy-like innocence was gone and was replaced with desperation and depression. His hair had begun to grey at his temples and spread throughout the rest of his head, almost completely covering his normal brown hair, his eyes were dark and sunken in, his skin and pale and sallow and his clothes were rumpled and looked like he had slept in them.

"Wilson…what happened to you?" House asked softly.

Wilson looked up from his work. "Do I know you?"

"No, I don't." House didn't know this James Wilson…what had happened that made this Wilson so…different?

"Then what do you want?" Wilson snapped. He reached forward and grabbed a mug and took a long drink of it and then slammed the mug on the table.

House sniffed the air. "Are you…drinking alcohol?"

Wilson glared at House. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah…" House sat down in the chair in front of Wilson, much to Wilson's displeasure. Wilson let out a loud sigh and motioned towards his mug. "You want some?"

House shook his head. Wilson shrugged, and then pulled a bottle of whisky out from under his desk and poured some into his mug until it brimmed over the top. House watched as Wilson drank once more from his mug.

"What made you like this?" House asked.

"Like what?"

"Like…this. You used to be so bright and…happy," House said.

Wilson laughed. "I haven't been happy in many years. Ever since my first wife left me, my life has been constant hell."

"How many times have you been married?" House asked in shock.

Wilson laughed and held out his hand in front of his face. "Let's just say I need more than one hand to count them."

House closed his eyes. This isn't Wilson, he kept repeating, over and over. House looked up at his friend, who the real friend had to be in there somewhere, and looked for some part of Jimmy that was missing. House noticed something on Wilson's wrist though, that made him stare and jump up and grab the oncologist's wrist.

"Hey!" Wilson yelled.

House examined the long scars on Wilson's wrist that seemed rather fresh. They were a new addition to the "New" Wilson.

"What are these from?" House asked. Wilson ignored him and tried to jerk his wrist away from House, but House held Wilson's wrist tightly and yelled, "Where did you get these scars?!"

"Hey man! I was just trying to oust myself, but it didn't work obviously. I wish it had," Wilson said.

"Killing yourself is a stupid…" House let go of Wilson, a thought coming into his mind. He was going to do the exact same thing this night.

House rushed out of Wilson's office. Confused, Wilson yelled, "Merry Christmas!" after House.

"You're Jewish!" House said, stopping at the door.

"I am?"

House exited the room before he could learn anything else that this Wilson was not.

Afraid of what he might find, but anxious to not, House ran the down the stairwell, his steps echoing in the empty desolate room. He was going to see the other person who he thought their life would be better without him.

Arriving to Cuddy's office, House found it closed off with the blinds closed. He looked around the room. The clinic was closed and nobody else was in the same room as House.

He made a move to climb over the ropes that blocked Cuddy's office, but a familiar voice stopped him.

"Greg."

House turned on the spot. "Oh, you again."

"How do you like your life without you?" the angel asked.

"I…" House tried to form a lie, but he couldn't muster it.

Thomas smiled. "Different that you thought, huh?"

"So…people have shittier lives and Wilson is a drunk." He pointed to Cuddy's office. "What about her? Where's Lisa?"

Thomas winced. "I wish you wouldn't have asked that."

"Why? Where is she?!"

"You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." House grabbed Thomas by the shoulders and shook him. "Where is she!?"

Thomas took in a shaky breath, and then looked away from House. "Lisa's….dead."

House blinked. No, Thomas must be wrong. Cuddy can't be dead.

"It's true," Thomas whispered. "It happened just a few weeks ago. There was this patient that came into the clinic. His name was Jason. He went into Lisa's office, where she was at the time. He demanded a diagnosis and threatened her with a gun."

"No…"

"Lisa tried to reason with him, but he didn't want to hear it. He killed her, Greg."

House shook his head. "You're lying! That can't be true."

"It is," the angel said softly.

House looked down at the floor and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking away the tears he could feel forming. Lisa Cuddy was dead because of him. Before, he was in her office instead and was able to prevent the shooter that had come into the clinic from killing anybody.

"Do you think you're significant now?" Thomas asked.

House darted to the phone that was sitting on the nurse's counter and began dialing his mom's phone number.

"Greg, stop it. She's gone too."

House let the phone drop away from his ear and stared at Thomas in disbelief. "What…?"

"Your mom died many years ago."

"But…"

"Yes."

House slammed the phone down on the receiver. "Tell me why!"

Thomas shifted, uncomfortable with the situation. "John went too far one day. He hurt her too much, and she had had enough. So she took her husband's gun and killed him."

House shivered.

"And then she killed herself," Thomas said.

"I…I can't…" House slumped against the counter, breathing heavily and gasping for air.

"Greg."

Reluctantly, House turned around to look at Thomas. He was standing in front of what seemed like a big group of people, but the crowd was surrounded in shadows and was faceless.

"Who are they?" House asked.

"They are dead," Thomas stated. "But you know them."

"No I don't…" House took a step closer to the crowd, Thomas taking a step away. As House looked over the group of faceless people, they became clearer and House turned to Thomas in shock.

"They're patients I saved!"

Thomas shook his head solemnly. "Not anymore."

House slowly looked back at his past patients. There was the nun with the copper allergy, the little boy that he had treated during the hospital benefit, the girl that could feel no pain, the man that had gotten poisoned by his wife, and the photographer and her baby was there too. Every patient that House had ever saved was there, pressing guilt on him, because he could have saved them. House looked down when he felt something tugging at his hand.

It was the bald headed little girl that had cancer. What was her name…? Andie. House looked down at the pitiful looking child.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," House muttered. "I really am." He looked up into the crowd and saw another familiar face. Foreman was standing there, looking smug.

"Why are you here?" House asked.

Foreman shrugged. "That patient, the police officer, I still got infected by him. I was treating him because of the neurological symptoms he was having. Nobody could figure out what I had, so…here I am."

House shook his head. "You!" he shouted, pointing at Thomas. "You're making this up!"

"I wish I was." Thomas sighed. "All these people died because you were not around to save them. Lisa got murdered because your absence made circumstances and agendas of Jason change. James became a different person because you weren't there when he needed you, when you first met him."

"But-,"

"You helped him get over his depression and made him move on with life. Remy is still afraid of her fate with Huntington's, because you were never able to pressure her into it. So now she is continuing on her downward spiral. Taub's problems repeated because you didn't make him feel like an idiot about it. Cameron and Chase…" Here Thomas stopped. "Chase still resents his father and Cameron is still weak."

"I didn't cause all of those people to change," House muttered.

"Yes, you did. And your mom…you weren't there to prevent John from abusing her. You kept him from hurting her, remember?"

"I killed her," House whispered. He thought of all the people whose lives had changed because he was never born. Many had died, and the rest were living miserable lives where they wished they were dead.

"I killed them," House said. "I…"

"What?"

"I wish I didn't…" House looked back over to the crowd of people he could have saved. Andie was crying and looking up at House.

House had thought it was bad to be alive, but now he felt even worse. He was in a world where nobody knew him, and everyone close to him were dead, or not themselves, so it was like they were dead. House remembered something that the real Wilson had said to him. Living is hard, dying is easy.

"Hmmm?" Thomas asked.

"I want to live…" House didn't want to take the easy way out of things anymore.

"Too late."

"No, come on! You have to be able to…" Too much had been lost, and House wanted it back. His mother, Cuddy, Wilson… House felt selfish for wanting to end his life.

"Sorry Greg."

House grabbed Thomas and yelled in his face, "I WANT TO LIVE!"

Thomas smiled. "You want to live," he said simply.

"YES, I DO!" House shut his eyes, letting tears fall, not caring who knew. "I'm so sorry, I just want everything back the way things-,"

House slumped to the ground, feeling Thomas slip away. House felt the familiar pain in his thigh and wind whipping around him and cold air stinging his face. In a moment, it was all over, and when House opened his eyes, he found himself back on the hospital roof.

* * *

**A/N: I tried to fit everyone into this chapter. I know Kutner's just kind of...there. LOL I also find it hard to believe that everyone would be employed at PPTH, because if House didn't have teams...you get where I am going. But also, there is a thing called fate, and sometimes things still happen regardless of what you do.**

**Anyways, reviews are nice :) There is one more chapter so, look out for it!**


	5. The Start

**Merry Chirstmas everyone!!! Well, here's the last chapter, I hope you had a good time reading it. :) As always, tell me what you thought, even you lurkers out there!! I can see you!**

* * *

Breathing heavily, House looked around. Thomas was nowhere to be seen on the hospital roof. Had it all been a dream? Or was he stunk in the world where he did not exist?

House stood up unsteadily, using his cane for balance.

"…Thomas?" House whispered. He got no answer.

But still…something inside of him told him that those experiences had happened. And even if they didn't, it was enough to make him act on them as though they really had occurred. House looked at his watch. It was one thirty A.M. Christmas morning.

Rejuvenated, House dashed off the hospital roof with a new spirit. Not a shout Merry Christmas at everyone he saw spirit, but one where he wanted to try new things and lead a somewhat better life.

Coming onto the fourth floor, House limped over to the first person he saw, a nurse that was usually frightened by him.

"Hey!" House said, "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Dr. H-house!" she squeaked.

House laughed slightly out of happiness. "That's right! I'm alive!"

The nurse stared at House as if he was insane. "Yes…yes you are."

House patted the nurse on the shoulder, who was only brought into a further state of shock. "Merry Christmas," he yelled as he walked away.

"I'm Jewish!"

"Hanukah! Do you have to go messing up my holiday wishes?" House continued limping until he got to the place that he was hoping was there. And it was.

The diagnostic office was there; like that nightmare had never happened.

House opened the door, and got a very big surprise.

Everyone was in there; Chase and Cameron, who were back together and Chase had an arm around Cameron. Foreman was standing in the corner talking to Taub, and from where House could see, Taub still was wearing his wedding band. Thirteen was looking down at the floor and blushing, and Kutner was laughing at something that he had just said. Wilson was smiling holding a steaming mug and Cuddy…was alive and standing next to Wilson, her baby in a carrier on the chair next to her.

"House!" Chase said, causing all the other people in the crowded office to turn around and look at House standing in the doorway.

"You're all…here," House said slowly.

"Yeah," Cuddy said, walking over to House and then tugging on his hand, convincing him to join the rest. "We all decided that we didn't want you to spend Christmas alone this year."

"You're Jewish."

Cuddy shrugged.

House looked over to Wilson. "What are you drinking?!"

Wilson was taken aback at House's frantic question. "Coffee…"

"Oh. Okay." House sighed. Everything was fine. All that had happened…Thomas, the past, life without him, it was all a dream.

"Well?" Foreman said.

House nodded. "Thank you."

And that made everyone have a small grin on their face.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Wilson threw a wrapped package at House.

"Oh thanks Jimmy!"

"It's not from me," Wilson said. "Or any of us here. I'm quite curious to see who else got you a gift."

"Open it!" Kutner said.

House read the tag that was attached.

I hope you now know that your life isn't that bad after all. Do what your heart tells you, and try not to be so miserable. I hope you have a wonderful life. Thomas.

Cuddy, who had been reading over House's shoulder, looked sideways at him. "Who's Thomas?"

House swallowed. So it really had happened. But that's impossible…

"A…old friend," House muttered.

Wilson laughed. "I thought I was your only friend."

House shot Wilson a glance, then began ripping off the red wrapping paper. It was the DVD of the movie, It's a Wonderful Life.

House grinned, holding the present Thomas had given him in his hands, letting the paper fall to the floor.

"Well…that's interesting," Wilson said.

House nodded. Only if they all knew just how interesting it all was, but House would never tell.

Cuddy put an arm around House, hugging him. House felt a flitter of excitement, and put and arm around Cuddy too. Thomas was right. He did like her.

"Lisa, I-," House began, but was stopped by Cuddy's baby, who was kicking a toy in her carrier, making a ringing sound.

House laughed, thinking of the movie that he had been given, and couldn't resist the urge.

"Atta boy Thomas."

"Huh?" Wilson said.

House shook his head. "Nothing." Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings. Thomas had gotten his.

Looking around the room at everyone that truly did care about him, House felt a little bit of joy that he had been missing. He was looked to his side at Cuddy, who later House would talk to her about them, and everyone else would sigh with relief thinking, "finally" when they saw House and Cuddy kissing under the mistletoe that Wilson had strategically hung in the office.

There were some bad parts to his life, but House reluctantly knew that it could really be wonderful; all he had to do was try.

* * *

**And that's all! Huddy at the end! Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful life. (LOL) Happy hoildays :)**

**-Revengent**


End file.
